Delusional
by hdixon
Summary: Built from prompts, I was asked to continue this story, so I decided to name it after what it was for: Team Delusional! Bethyl babies! :)


Requesting you to have a follow-up chapter to that prompt with Noah saying sorry about the baby to Daryl? Pretty please? :D I'm on a Team Delusional train today and I don't want to stop this high hahaha.

**absolutely! that was probably one of my favorite prompts to write about! im glad you're on our Delusional train, I'll try to make this as Delusional as possible! you're in for a surprise cutie! **

Beth Greene was gone, but Daryl hated to say the word 'dead'. As he and Rick plowed through the woods to the area in which Beth was buried, he though of all the words she had ever said to him and how he would never hear her sweet-as-sugar voice again. He would never run his fingers through her golden blonde hair again, he would never see her smile, he would never hear her coos to Judith, he would never be able to tell her how he felt. He had never been able to tell her he loved her, but it was obviously true. Daryl thought about all of these things as he crunched thick layers of brown leaves beneath his feet, hoisting his crossbow higher upon his shoulder the faster he ran. Neither men had said a word to one another about the situation, running in complete silence, the only noise the sound of their feet in the foliage and their panting. Daryl's child was alive inside what he believed to be a completely dead girl's body. A heavy curtain of guilt fell upon his already heavy heart as he could see where she was buried between the trees. The closer he got, the weirder the scene looked, and they both stopped in their tracks. Below them was the dirty sheet they had wrapped her body in, ripped and covered in blood. Dirt was thrown in piles from the shallow hole where her body had been and thin raked tracks that looked like they had been dug with large fingers, possibly a mans. Beth had been unburied. Daryl couldn't help but think of the impossible: she could be alive. Rick bent over, rubbing his head with his hands. They were both puzzled and dazedly staring at the piles of dirt and the raked marks. Finally, one of them spoke. "Somebody unburied her." Rick muttered, his tone making the statement sound more like a question. Daryl stood there still, his expression that of a deer in headlights. It had been four days since she had been buried and Daryl hadn't been to her makeshift grave in three of those days. He had left flowers there, beautiful purple and yellow wildflowers that Beth had eyed when they had stayed at that funeral home. Daryl realized that they were gone and bent down to look for them. It could have been possible for them to be eaten by some sort of animal, but it was unlikely because they had been picked and were probably wilted. Wet smooth dirt sifted through the crevices between his fingers as he looked for the flowers but didn't see them and he soon decided they had been taken. "This dirt's just been dug up, Rick." Daryl said when he noticed the how there were no new fallen leaves around the ones that had been already been raked back. "They couldn't be far ahead of us." he continued, his heartbeat speeding up. She was alive, he could feel it. He was going to find her if it was the last thing he would ever do. "Rick?" he asked after his best friend hadn't answered him, which was unusual. Realizing what Rick was holding, he furrowed his brows with confusion: Rick was fondling a map, turning it over and over. "'That the map that Abraham gave ya?" he questioned, Rick whipping his head up. "Morgan. Beth's with Morgan." Rick stood up rapidly, handing the map to Daryl, who's eyes were wide. "What the hell?" Daryl asked, snatching the map from his hands unintentionally. "Its a map. And?" he said, but Rick pointed to the edges. The edges of the map were withered and damp with what he thought to be sweat, and it was fresh. It wasn't Ricks obviously, and Rick pointed ahead. "We need to follow them. You can track 'em, right?" Daryl looked to the footprints in the dirt, leading ahead through the woods and he stood up as well. He nodded, taking no time to follow up with more conversation and together they followed the staggering tracks until they became one set of prints. "What the hell?" Daryl thought aloud, confused at what he was seeing. The tracks were perfectly straight, that of a sober man and not of a walker or a drunk. "There were two of 'em," he started, pointing to the ground, "and there's just one here." he said, dragging his finger through the dirt to make a line where they were. Rick jerked him up and pointed. Far ahead of them was a small wooden gray shed and the chipped black door was ajar. Daryl took off as fast as he could go, stopping at the edge of the door and prepping his crossbow for fire. Rick followed suit, cocking his gun and pointing it ahead as well. Daryl flung the door open wider and what he saw amazed him. A peek of blonde hair was poking out from underneath a blanket and knealing beside her was a large black man who was wrapping a green-brown coat around her shoulders. "Beth?" Daryl couldn't help but say, lowering his crossbow and dashing to her side, but the man put his own gun to Daryl's head immediately after he was inches away from touching her shoulder.


End file.
